Chapter 4: Serpent's Shadow
The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as the new first-years waited for the Sorting Hat to make its decisions. Thousands of candles floated overhead, casting a warm glow over the long tables where students from the four houses sat, their faces a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The Sorting Ceremony was one of the most important moments in a young witch or wizard's life, a moment that would determine the course of their time at Hogwarts.
Among the new students, Hermione Granger stood nervously, clutching the edges of her robes. She'd spent years preparing for this moment, pouring over books and learning everything she could about Hogwarts. Her intellect and curiosity were her strongest traits, and she was certain she'd be sorted into Ravenclaw.
Draco stood next to Hermione, their hands interlocked. He wasn't sure why he felt so on edge, he knew he would be sorted into Slytherin without hesitation, as had generations of Malfoys before him. He also felt certain that Hermione would be sorted into Ravenclaw, but a part of him hoped against all logic that she would be placed where he was.
"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall called out.
Hermione stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. The Sorting Hat was placed gently on her head, and the world around her seemed to fall away. The hat's voice echoed in her mind.
"Ah… interesting," it said softly, as if musing to itself. "Very interesting. Plenty of intelligence, yes, you'd do well in Ravenclaw. But there's something more… ambition, drive… and loyalty. Loyalty to a particular person, I see. Someone who's destined for Slytherin."
Hermione's thoughts turned to Draco, her closest friend. They had grown up together, and despite the whispers from other children, Draco had always been by her side, protecting her from the disdain of those who looked down on her Muggle-born heritage. The hat was clearly referring to him.
"Curious… yes, very curious," the hat continued. "You could go far in Slytherin. It's all here in you—the thirst to prove yourself, the cleverness to achieve your goals, and a heart that is loyal to those you care for. Yes, I believe it should be… SLYTHERIN!"
The last word rang out through the Great Hall.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. No one, not even Hermione, had expected that. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables exchanged confused glances, while whispers broke out among the students.
Draco, however, smiled. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile of relief and satisfaction. Hermione had been placed in Slytherin. She would be with him. From the cluster of First Years he began clapping and soon the rest of the Great Hall joined in.
Hermione, still in shock, walked over to the Slytherin table, her legs trembling. She couldn't believe it—Slytherin? The house known for cunning, ambition, and, as far as she'd read, prejudice against Muggle-borns? She cast a quick glance toward the Gryffindor table, where students like Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, whom she'd only briefly met, were sitting. Their eyes were wide with surprise.
As the sorting continued and Draco came and sat next to her, she whispered, "I thought I'd be in Ravenclaw…"
Draco leaned in, his voice low and calm. "I knew you'd be here with me. It makes sense, Hermione. We belong together and Slytherin will suit you."
Hermione wasn't so sure. But there was no going back now.
As the days passed, Hermione quickly realized that life as a Muggle-born in Slytherin would not be easy. The house, steeped in centuries of pure-blood tradition, was suspicious of her presence. Whispers followed her wherever she went, and many of the older students looked at her with thinly veiled disdain. To them, her presence was an insult to the purity of their house.
But Draco stood by her side, always. He had made it clear to the other Slytherins that Hermione was under his protection, and most of them were smart enough not to challenge him openly. After all, Draco was a Malfoy, and the influence of his family was not something anyone in Slytherin dared to cross.
"What are they whispering about now?" Hermione muttered as they walked together to Potions class, a group of Slytherins casting sideways glances at her.
Draco scoffed. "They're jealous, that's all. You're already the top of the class, and they don't like that a Muggle-born is showing them up. Let them talk."
She gave him a small smile, grateful for his unwavering support. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You won't have to find out," Draco said firmly. "You're my best friend Hermione, and I will always have your back."
The words caught Hermione off guard. She had grown up with Draco, and their friendship was solid, but there was something deeper in his voice now, something almost possessive. Still, she brushed it off. Draco was her best friend. Of course he would look out for her.
But the whispers in the corridors continued. Some Slytherins resented her intelligence and her connection to Draco. Others seemed to be waiting, watching, as if expecting Draco to desert her at any moment.